Untitled
Poem
A man of simple
pleasures
Surrounded by a
trove of treasures
In at nine and
home by five
Time flies when
you're having fun
When the wind blows
from hollow lulls
The man stops and
slows then goes
and then again
Work in packs like
one long tack
Stick together on
their six wheels
Tom Newman
Blatant
Blatantly bored, a gardener plugs away at soil in a flower bed, prodding
it incessantly with a green-handled hoe. All at once, it seems like he does
this motion every day, and that he has never done it before.
Another gardener circles a tree three times on a ride-along lawnmower, leaving torn up dirt and green streaks through the grass in his wake. He wears headphones to block out the whirring of the mower and nods along to music only he can hear.
A woman pauses cycling to light a cigarette and smoke it against a wall.
A student with a purple sweater and a matching lanyard walks along a path, buried in his phone even as he reaches a building and heads inside. He does everything blindly, engrossed in the world in his fingertips.
In a high window, a man stands shirtless, wearing only blue shorts and socks. He sees me and waves. He is a stranger to me, but he extends a greeting regardless.
Blinking in the sun, a brown and white cat lies just beneath a hedge, inches from the shade. When approached, he mewls loudly and bumps his head against my hand. He doesn't object to being lifted from his grassy bed in the sunlight, and his fur feels soft and warm beneath my hands.
High up in the limited canopy of trees, a black crow squawks and squeals as I pass underneath. Another bird echoes its cry, but this one is softer, gentler, briefer; the jovial sound that often marks dawn. They are backdropped by the whooshing, grinding sounds of a distant lawnmower.
On a red brick wall, a student sits with a notebook. On the wall opposite them, another sits with a different notebook on their lap. A few feet away, yet another sits, cross-legged, writing in yet another notebook.
A student walks past a monochrome paper gown and curiously brushes his fingers against the black crepe skirt. It crinkles beneath his fingertips and the whole dress moves, shifted by his smallest of touches. He pauses, fascinated, but does not touch the gown again.
Two cleaners stand on a landing between two floors. The ground is littered with black plastic bags that lift up and rustle when two tired students walk down the stairs, unlock their mailboxes, and leave the building with equal handfuls of envelopes.
A man in a blue jacket walks along a road and waves both his arms in the air, to the delight of his red and grey jacketed companions.
Someone in an olive t-shirt with a long ponytail sits on top of a lamp that lines a pavement, alternately talking on the phone and smoking a thin cigarette. 'Takes a lot to get comfortable,' he says to whoever is on the other end of the line, 'It'll come with time.'
By a red building marked “ARTS”, a small group of students sing a heartfelt song to the tune of a wordless music track. As the music increases in volume, one boy sings loudly above the rest, dominating the space in front of the building as his deep voice echoes between the walls. One girl holds her notes far longer than the others, her voice blooming like a flower as the seconds pass. They dance in formation, three girls and three boys performing a practiced routine for all the world to observe.
Another gardener circles a tree three times on a ride-along lawnmower, leaving torn up dirt and green streaks through the grass in his wake. He wears headphones to block out the whirring of the mower and nods along to music only he can hear.
A woman pauses cycling to light a cigarette and smoke it against a wall.
A student with a purple sweater and a matching lanyard walks along a path, buried in his phone even as he reaches a building and heads inside. He does everything blindly, engrossed in the world in his fingertips.
In a high window, a man stands shirtless, wearing only blue shorts and socks. He sees me and waves. He is a stranger to me, but he extends a greeting regardless.
Blinking in the sun, a brown and white cat lies just beneath a hedge, inches from the shade. When approached, he mewls loudly and bumps his head against my hand. He doesn't object to being lifted from his grassy bed in the sunlight, and his fur feels soft and warm beneath my hands.
High up in the limited canopy of trees, a black crow squawks and squeals as I pass underneath. Another bird echoes its cry, but this one is softer, gentler, briefer; the jovial sound that often marks dawn. They are backdropped by the whooshing, grinding sounds of a distant lawnmower.
On a red brick wall, a student sits with a notebook. On the wall opposite them, another sits with a different notebook on their lap. A few feet away, yet another sits, cross-legged, writing in yet another notebook.
A student walks past a monochrome paper gown and curiously brushes his fingers against the black crepe skirt. It crinkles beneath his fingertips and the whole dress moves, shifted by his smallest of touches. He pauses, fascinated, but does not touch the gown again.
Two cleaners stand on a landing between two floors. The ground is littered with black plastic bags that lift up and rustle when two tired students walk down the stairs, unlock their mailboxes, and leave the building with equal handfuls of envelopes.
A man in a blue jacket walks along a road and waves both his arms in the air, to the delight of his red and grey jacketed companions.
Someone in an olive t-shirt with a long ponytail sits on top of a lamp that lines a pavement, alternately talking on the phone and smoking a thin cigarette. 'Takes a lot to get comfortable,' he says to whoever is on the other end of the line, 'It'll come with time.'
By a red building marked “ARTS”, a small group of students sing a heartfelt song to the tune of a wordless music track. As the music increases in volume, one boy sings loudly above the rest, dominating the space in front of the building as his deep voice echoes between the walls. One girl holds her notes far longer than the others, her voice blooming like a flower as the seconds pass. They dance in formation, three girls and three boys performing a practiced routine for all the world to observe.
Jesse
Oliver
The Arts Centre
Outside The Arts Centre singing can be heard as
students practise a performance, seemingly to their own reflections as they
sing into a darkened window. An a Capella piece with each voice adding to their
tune. A boy walks past them, curiosity makes him glance up and he watches the
performers as he passes. A girl walks by and with her eyes fixated on her
phone and her earphones pressed in to her ears she is oblivious to the
performance going on just behind her. Quiet follows a final “Down on skid
row…” as their song ends. Their performance is over and only the cool wind
rustling the bushes and the chatter of nearby students can be heard. A man in
dark clothing walks by knowing nothing of the moment he just missed.
Georgia Jepson
The Lake
Two
ducks lie side by side, heads bowed down, as if in prayer. They don’t flinch.
They don’t move. They just sit. They pray. Nearby, another duck slaps its feet
at the grass. It looks for an entrance to the lake, discovers one and test the
water. Too cold. No good.
A bird
pesters the ground for food where two shadows intersect. Its friends make
symphonies through dense trees. It is ambient. It is peaceful. A passer-by
scares the bird away.
Two
people sit; one on a bench, one on the grass. They both write. They both live.
They both breathe. Neither speak.
A man
tramples fallen leaves – a cigarette in one hand, phone in the other. He takes
a sharp, deep breath of poison and strolls over to the smoking post, where he stubs
it out and abandons the last whispers of smoke.
A metal
bird rips through the blue sky and patchy clouds heading for the unknown.
Listening closely, you can hear the clouds tear apart with a deep, dull bellow
of screams.
Dylan Booth
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